


Be smart and breathe

by MsPeppernose



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Pining, fitness kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 11:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6801514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no denying it. Pete looks really fucking good lately. He's been working out a lot, stepped up to heavy weights, he’s even being doing fucking weighted pull ups and shit. Whatever skin care routine he’s switched to seems to be doing good things, and his blonde hair is on point.</p><p>He looks fantastic. Patrick has noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be smart and breathe

**Author's Note:**

> First written when the boys were on Monumentour and it's had a lot of incarnations since then. This one's been around a while. Thanks to TearCatcher for the beta and for being awesome! <3
> 
> Title is a Beatsteaks song.

There's no denying it. Pete looks really fucking good lately. He's been working out a lot, stepped up to heavy weights, he’s even being doing fucking weighted pull ups and shit. Whatever skin care routine he’s switched to seems to be doing good things, and his bright blonde hair is on point.

He looks fantastic. Patrick has noticed.

Patrick has had crushes on guys before, many times. He's even kissed a few guys in the past, but that was a long time ago. Pete's the only guy he's actually thought about kissing in years.

He's always known that Pete is attractive - he's not blind. Pete is gorgeous, with his dark skin, cheeky grin and impossibly brown eyes. He's affectionate, hanging off of people, arms curling around their neck or waist, and he's quick to cuddle on the couch or crawl into bunks with his bandmates. He's not remotely shy about his body or shameless about how little clothing he wears at times. Patrick has noticed all of that too.

Pete has been Patrick's best friend for longer than any of his other friends, except for maybe Joe. But Pete is different, their bond is so close and they’ve been through so much, that Patrick will never deny that he loves that man to death. Lately though, the love has been shifting from best friend to more than that, to _different_ than that. Now, it’s not that he love Pete like he loves the rest of the band, it’s reforming into something that Patrick can’t explain or understand just yet.

On a good day, Pete is the life and soul of any room he's in. He's captivating, full of smiles and jokes, and makes everyone feel like they're the one he's having the most fun with. He's not everyone's cup of tea, and he can be an irritating little shit when he wants to be. He’s easily bored and can be a total jackass, something that Patrick has been on the receiving end of on more occasions than he can count, but that's all part of the Pete-parcel. Rough with the smooth.

On a bad day - well, on a bad day Patrick just wants to wrap Pete in a blanket and hold him until the mental storm clouds pass.

Patrick’s little crush starts when Pete steps onto the bus sweaty and exhilarated from hitting a gym near a venue they’re playing. Pete has been hitting the gym hard lately. It's partly to do with the boredom of a long tour with mostly empty days, partly because it's summer and an extra excuse for Pete to wear almost nothing, and there’s no harm looking good while wearing next to nothing.

His shirt is dark with drying sweat, and his gym shorts are low in a gravity defying sort of way. He plasters his sweaty self to Patrick's back and wraps his sweaty arms around Patrick's neck for a backwards hug. And then he wriggles. Pete must know he’s being obnoxious, he has to.

"Gross. Fuck off, Pete!" Patrick shrugs him off and scowls as Pete heads off to his bunk in search of fresh clothes with a grin on his face that should make Patrick want to smack him. Except Patrick sort of wants to do other things.

Like kiss him.

And that’s new. Where the fuck did that come from? Patrick ignores it. He must be tired, he’s been staying up late working of some new tracks this past week. Or maybe it’s something he ate. Nothing more.

When Pete barrels onto the bus several days later, he's sweaty and gross again. This time his shirt is off and tucked into the back pocket of his sweaty shorts and he's laughing animatedly with Andy. They’re discussing some douchebag at the gym who was trying to show off by lifting a too-heavy barbell and nearly killed himself in the process. Pete's grin lights up his face, his teeth are almost too big for mouth, but that just gives a flash of bright white against his dark skin. Pete's lips stretch wide into the smile, and his eyes crinkle into gorgeous little creases when he smiles like that. Patrick wants to kiss him, to see if his lips are salty from sweat. And now Patrick realises he's just blatantly staring at Pete, mouth half open like he's catching flies.

"'Sup, Trick."

Patrick panics, nearly forgetting how to formulate words and actually make them leave his mouth as he scrambles to forget what he was just thinking about. He just about manages it. "Good gym session?"

"Yeah I killed it. I'm sweaty as fuck though." Pete grins. "Wanna see?" he teases and then he's lunging towards Patrick for a disgusting bear hug.

Patrick's eyes go wide and he panics. "Fuck. No, Pete. I - I gotta go." He holds his hand up to stop Pete in his tracks and Pete’s grin falters a little. Patrick heads for the exit in lightning speed. Yeah, it's probably still the fact that he’s been working too much, he’ll have an early night tonight. There’s no way he'd be thinking of Pete like that otherwise.

Except that he is.

Patrick decides to join Pete in the gym. It’s something to do, he likes the gym more than he used to after losing the weight, and maybe he can burn off some energy. That should help.

It doesn't. As soon as Pete starts working out, Patrick knows he's been lying to himself. If seeing Pete come back onto the bus all sweaty and on a post-workout high was making Patrick want to kiss him, seeing Pete in action is infinitely worse. Jesus, Pete is sweating and grunting and exerting himself all over the gym. There's nowhere to hide.

Patrick tries to work out. It's half hearted. He's very much distracted watching Pete and trying not to. Pete starts on the treadmill and Patrick picks the one beside him. They don't talk, it's impossible while Pete is running and Patrick is, well, sort of running. Pete moves onto the weights machines and Patrick doesn't really see him for a bit. The only way he'd be able to watch Pete on the leg press or the shoulder press is if he was standing over him, and that's not cool, and it’s also unexplainable if Pete asks. So Patrick picks different machines to work out on, ones far, far away from Pete.

He only sees Pete again when they end up in the free weights area at the same time. Patrick never minds doing free weights. He sort of knows what he's doing, knows how much he can lift, how many reps, how many sets. He needs to do enough to get a good workout it, without ending up sore or stiff when he goes to play that night or the next (it's always worse the next day).

So he's usually ok with that section of the gym. Except for today, because today he's got Pete Fucking Wentz being all gorgeous right in front of his goddamn face.

Patrick starts into a set of bicep curls and watches as Pete does the same. He can see Pete in the mirror and god, he can't take his eyes off Pete's biceps and the flex and bulge of them as he moves, ink curling and distorting, and then returning to normal.

When did this become a thing that Patrick was into? He thinks maybe it's some sort of new fitness kink he didn't know he's had, but then surely he'd be all over Andy instead? Andy could probably bench press an elephant, and maybe even win the Hunger Games.

So it's not a gym kink; it's Pete.

Patrick goes to the gym with Pete a handful more times but he has to stop when he sees Pete doing push ups with one of the guys who works the gym. There's some sort of testosterone-contest going on between them - a lighthearted one of course - and Pete is amped to do as many push-ups as he can before his arms give out. He watches Pete grunt and lift himself with relative ease to begin with, and actually imagines sliding in under him so that every time Pete's arms bend and he lowers to the ground, he would press against Patrick, all damp and sweaty and breathless.

He recognises that that's one of his more ridiculous thoughts for today. Or his life.

Patrick has to focus on a horribly sweaty and gross man across the gym who has his ass crack half on show, and block Pete out completely to make sure he doesn't get hard, because he was beginning to get turned on by that thought. He prays with all his might that there's no one around to recognise him or Pete. All he would need now is a fan photo on the internet of himself with a bulge in his shorts. Patrick might die if that happens. No more gym for him.

In the evening, when they play, nothing really changes. Pete presses his forehead to Patrick’s shoulder and plays his heart out. Patrick leans in close with his face centimetres from Pete’s and lets muscle memory take over, adrenaline coursing through them both. Nothing changes. But he watches Pete more, watches him spin and jump and hold the entire audience captivated in the palm of his hand. Whenever Pete smiles over at him he just beams back. Pete is something else to watch.

Pete climbs onto the bus one day after the gym. He's shirtless again, his bare chest clammy and sweaty, and there's a bead of sweat pooling in the hollow of skin where his throat meets his collarbone. He heads straight for Patrick, plonking himself down on the sofa and sprawling out.

"Fuck. I'm exhausted. Will you wash me, Pattycakes? I'm too tired."

"Gross, Pete." Though the thought of getting Pete into the shower is not as unappealing as Patrick lets on.

"Come on." Pete whines and pokes Patrick in the ribs, making him squirm. Patrick tries to block him out, gorgeous and endorphin-high as he is, and go back to his book. Pete seems to have other ideas, because he's leaning over to Patrick with a wicked grin a mile wide. He looks like he's about to do his sweaty bear hug move that Patrick has been so avidly trying to avoid the past week. His eyes trained on his book, he places his open palm on Pete's chest and pushes him away.

"You never let me give you a gym hug anymore. Is it that gross?"

"Yeah, dude. It's disgusting." It should be disgusting but Patrick's lying through his teeth. He'd actually love to have a sweaty Pete plastered all the fuck over him. "Gonna head to my bunk, ok?" Patrick shifts a little, about to get off the couch.

"Are you avoiding me, Patrick?" Pete’s tone is serious and a little wary. Shit.

"No. Why?"

"You keep running off when I'm around. Did I do something?" Pete looks hurt. He's got big doleful puppy dog eyes, and Patrick feels awful.

"No. Pete, you didn't do anything. I promise. You know how it gets on tour, sometimes it's easier to hide out than to talk to people." It's not really a lie. That happens on every tour - there's a saturation point where it's hard to look at his bandmates without needing some alone time. It's not the complete reason he's fleeing from Pete, though.

Pete grins and launches himself at Patrick, pressing himself to Patrick's chest for a hug. "So you're not mad at me?"

"'Course not."

"Awesome." Pete climbs into Patrick's lap and hooks his arm around his neck. Pete might still be a sweaty mess from his gym activity, but he's so close and his skin is very warm against Patrick's, even through their clothing. It feels good, a little too good. "You should have come to the gym today. Will you come tomorrow?"

"I'll think about it."

Pete shifts in Patrick's lap and wiggles a bit, and beams at Patrick. "Come on, Trick. Say you will? Say it! Say it."

Pete's good at being overenthusiastic and obnoxious and there's quite often bodily contact involved. Pete is more affectionate with Patrick than with anyone else, and sometimes he even goes as far as to be all the fuck over Patrick like a human blanket. This time, every word is punctuated by more fidgeting and wiggling from Pete. Patrick never would have cared about it before. He probably never would have noticed how much Pete is almost rubbing his ass against his thighs, but today of all days, Patrick's body reacts.

And, oh god, Patrick desperately needs to get away from Pete. But he can't, because Pete is fucking sitting on him, and now it's too late anyway. Pete notices. He stills, no more wiggling and singing at him.

"Patrick?"

"Yep." Patrick can't look at Pete so he looks at the floor.

"Oh." When Patrick glances at Pete, Pete's mouth is still in the O shape long after the word has left his lips. His gaze drops to Patrick's lap, like looking at it will make any difference. He then slides right off of Patrick, back onto the sofa, and thank god for that. Patrick still wants to run but it's like he's glued to the cushions. "Pete," he starts, but before he can say anything else Pete leans his body forward and kisses him.

It takes Patrick utterly by surprise. His eyes are wide but Pete's have fallen softly shut so Patrick closes his eyes too and kisses right back. Pete's lips are softer than Patrick would have thought, and they taste of some sort of sugary sports drink rather than leftover sweat. The kiss is short lived, but it shakes through Patrick, right down to his insides. _Fuck_ , Pete can kiss like he really fucking means it. When Pete pulls back a fraction, Patrick is breathless. They take several deep breaths, and he and Pete just stare at each other trying to figure out what to do next. Pete pulls back further and he stares at Patrick likes he’s searching for something.

Before Patrick can register much, Pete is moving away and unfolding himself from the sofa. “I should grab that shower,” he says, and then he’s gone before Patrick can open his mouth to object, to tell him to stay, to kiss him again like he wants to. He sends a brief backwards glance to Patrick as he departs and Patrick can’t even begin to read what’s written on his face.

Patrick heads straight for his bunk and pulls the curtain shut, wishing it was a door he could slam, rather than just a flimsy piece of fabric. He lies face down, cursing himself, until he hears the water start to run and he knows that Pete is getting into the shower. He grabs his headphones and puts them on; Pete usually sings in the shower (tuneless, and anything from metalcore to show tunes, but singing nonetheless), and Patrick doesn’t want to hear that right now. All he can think of is that he got a fucking boner when his friend sat on his lap, and he wants to scream into his pillow at that thought and how mortifying that is. He’s also thinking a lot about the fact Pete kissed him – actually kissed him, with his mouth - and then ran away. He’s half convinced that that’s something he dreamed up, but when he touches his fingertips to his lips, they’re still tingling.

He also curses himself for not running after Pete, kissing him again, and telling him he’s got all these fucking feelings now.

Patrick has no idea which is worse.

He leaves his headphones on for long enough that when he removes them, the bus is silent. Pete is gone. He stares at his ceiling and wonders how this happened and how he’s ever going to fix it.

*

The next few days he tries to avoid Pete. Patrick had been avoiding being alone with him already so it’s not hard to continue it. It’s made even easier by the fact that Pete seems to be avoiding being with him, too. When there’s other people around, Pete is normal with him, talks to him, there’s a few jokes, but the conversation is more with the rest of everyone else than with Patrick. Whenever it’s just the two of them, Pete makes an exit before Patrick can, which is both relieving and awful.

When they play, Pete leans against him less, doesn’t linger when he presses against his shoulder. It’s more for show than for anything else; just part of their performance rather than the chemistry that they usually have. It breaks Patrick’s heart a little because he misses the way it was. He misses the closeness that they got for those moments on stage. When Pete catches his eye during a song, there’s a smile but it’s not the usual wide grin and mischievous glint in Pete’s eyes that Patrick used to get.

Patrick knows he needs to sort this out. He’s gone over that kiss so many times in his head that it’s all started to blur together. He’s starting to question who kissed who, and has gone as far as to convince himself that there’s no possible way that Pete kissed him, it must have been that Patrick kissed Pete and that’s why Pete runs a mile every time he sees him.

Patrick feels like he’s ruined something special.

Patrick boards the bus after sound check one afternoon. He got caught up at the venue talking to Joe and everyone else had headed off to do whatever before the show that evening. Pete is already on the bus when Patrick gets there, and he’s sprawled on the sofa, shirtless, as per fucking usual, and playing Mario Kart. He doesn’t look up when Patrick enters the lounge but pauses his game and puts the controller on the sofa beside him.

“I’m just finished. All yours,” he says and gives Patrick a small smile that doesn’t even come close to reaching his eyes.

“Pete-”

“It’s cool. I’ve played, like, five hundred games now anyway.”

“Pete-“ Patrick’s not sure how to finish that sentence. He just wants his friend back. He can handle unrequited – what is it anyway? Love? Lust? A crush? It doesn’t matter, he can handle it if he can have Pete back.

“What?”

“Pete, please don’t run. Do you think we should actually talk? Rather than avoiding each other?

Patrick sits down beside Pete and Pete sits up, no longer lounging so far back he’s practically horizontal. “Okay.”

“Can we just forget the whole thing happened?” Patrick says. He doesn’t really want to forget about it. That kiss was incredible, but he’d swap it to get his friend back.

“Do you want to?” Pete raises his eyebrows when he asks the question, like he’s surprised that Patrick even asked it.

“Do you not?”

“Dude, it’s been all messed up since then,” Pete says, and he sounds sad. “But. I dunno. I don’t want to. Not really.”

“I freaked out.” Patrick shrugs.

“Hey, me too.” Pete says more brightly, like he’s just found out that he and Patrick have the same favourite Starbucks order instead of something a lot bigger.

Once again Patrick is lost for what to say next. But he doesn’t have a lot of time to think about it. The next thing he knows, Pete is leaning in and kissing him softly, and he brushes his thumb over Patrick’s cheekbone. They kiss for just a moment, and a pretty chaste kiss in comparison to what Patrick would like to do.

When Pete pulls back, he says “Is this okay?”

Patrick wants to tell him that it’s more than okay, that he’s scared as hell right now, but yes it’s perfectly okay. Instead he chooses to kiss Pete again in answer. When their lips meet again, Pete works his way past Patrick’s lips, stroking his tongue against Patrick's and sending jolts of electricity down through his chest and then to his dick.

Patrick begins to be brave enough to move, because he really wants to touch all of Pete's skin and map his tattoos. Patrick has often wondered if Pete’s ink feels the same under his fingers as normal skin does. Cuddling in a bunk is one thing, but properly and carefully caressing his friends ink is less cool, unless it’s in a situation like this. He trails his fingers down Pete's bare chest tracing the ring of thorns around his neck and then moves down the trace the outline of the bartskull with his fingertips. Pete hums delicious little noises when he does it, and Patrick might actually explode from how much he's enjoying seeing Pete like this.

He moves one hand down the soft skin of Pete's ribs and waist and rests it on his hip. He cards the other hand through Pete's hair, gently pulling on clumps on it, and he knows Pete likes it because he bites his lip in response. Pete is eager enough to reciprocate and lets his hands wander too, skimming up and down Patrick's arms, and then in under his shirt to paw at Patrick's back.

When Patrick's bravery grows a little more he palms at Pete’s groin, and he’s rock hard. He moans at the contact and Patrick then moves off the couch and heads for the space on the floor between Pete's knees. He feels like he’s watching it from somewhere outside of his body, like it’s some really good porn, because when did he get this brave? Pete already has his shirt off, so when Patrick gets his hand into his gym shorts and boxers and pulls them down, he's naked from his thighs up.

Patrick takes a second to appreciate Pete all laid out, and just for him. It's infinitely different from all the other times he's seen Pete naked in dressing rooms or wandering the bus in search of clean underwear. That's not intimate, and this is. Pete's dick is thick and dark and blood-flushed and Patrick wraps his hand around the base, and just goes for it. He closes his mouth over the head and works his tongue against the sensitive area of flesh on the underside. It's been a long time since he's done this but apparently it's not something that's too difficult to remember judging the appreciative sounds that Pete's making.

When Patrick glances up at Pete, he looks utterly blissed out. Pete's head is thrown back, eyes softly closed and his brow is sweaty. He's alternating between running his tongue over his lower lip and sinking his teeth into it. Patrick knows that people, especially the fangirls, have said things about his own mouth. He doesn’t understand it at all, but he knows it’s a thing. Patrick would say that Pete's mouth is hotter than his own any day of the week - Pete's mouth is fucking _sinful_. Patrick loves his perfect little pout when he pushes his lips together, sticking the bottom lip out, or when he twists it into his iconic mock-snarl. It makes Patrick's pants a little tighter, and right now, Patrick can't get over how gorgeous he looks. He has to ignore the deep ache in his own dick and continue to suck Pete off.

Pete's hips arch forward occasionally, despite Patrick's hand that's trying to hold him down. Patrick hollows his cheeks, and sucks like there's no tomorrow and Pete’s breathing and movements become more erratic. Patrick knows he’s close so he hums against Pete’s dick, making Pete's hips snap up, and he tenses. He comes down Patrick's throat with and slew of mumbled curses mixed in with Patrick's name, breathing hard with one hand gripping Patrick's shoulder.

"Come 'ere." Pete says when he can talk again. He twists his fingers in Patrick's shirt and pulls him up. "Let me." He kisses him with closed eyes and works on Patrick's belt with the other hand. When he opens Patrick's jeans enough to pull them down a little and wrap his hand around his dick, Patrick feels like all of his Christmases have come at once. Even more so when Pete slides to his knees and licks the length of Patrick’s dick from base to tip in a long swipe. Patrick’s dick is then enveloped in Pete’s wet-warm mouth and Patrick lets out a low groan. Holy shit, Pete is sucking his dick, and it’s actually really happening and not just Patrick’s filthy imagination. There’s no way Patrick can last when he watches Pete blond head bobbing up and down. It's bliss and it's beautiful and it only takes a few short minutes before his hips buck up and sparks explode behind his eyes as Pete swallows around him. He didn’t even have a chance to warn Pete that he was about to come, to give him the opportunity to pull back. But judging by the huge grin on Pete’s face he doesn’t seem to mind too much.

Pete sits back up on the sofa and kisses Patrick again just once, sliding an arm around him and pressing his forehead to his neck. Patrick doesn't want to move. Maybe ever. It will spoil the moment and he feels like if this bit is over he has to either pretend it never happened, or deal with the awkwardness of coming down his close friends’ throat. But he's also very aware that they are sprawled messy and undressed on the sofa of the bus, and at any moment someone could walk in. He's not really ready for any of that yet.

Pete is the first to move, and it seems he's read Patrick's mind. He quickly stands and kicks his gym shorts off but pulls his underwear back up, and Patrick wants to laugh. Pete is usually so unashamed in his nudity, it seems hilarious that he would decide to cover himself up right after his dick has been in Patrick's mouth. Pete takes Patrick by the wrist and pulls him in the direction of the bunks, and Patrick has to hold onto this jeans one-handed to keep them from falling and to keep himself from tripping on them. Pete pulls the curtain open of his own bunk and gestures for Patrick to get in.

"Such a gentleman, Wentz," Patrick smiles. The tension that Patrick was anticipating is nowhere to be found, and Pete just grins at him.

"Well someone has to be. Get in, asshole." Pete points towards the bunk again. Patrick crawls inside and Pete follows, pulling the curtain closed again behind him.

Pete curls himself around Patrick, head on his shoulder, legs tangled together and Patrick relishes in the contact. This is familiar and not remotely scary or new. He and Pete have shared bunks and beds more times than he can count. It's comforting. Pete sweeps his fingers up Patrick's arm, idly tracing lines and shapes as if he was drawing an invisible tattoo sleeve.

Pete reaches up and kisses Patrick again, soft and light, and then rests his head back on Patrick's shoulder. "Shit, Stump. Didn't know I still wanted this."

"Still?" What the fuck?

"It was a long time ago, Patrick. You were young and I was a mess." Patrick's taken aback. He blinks at Pete. He had no idea that Pete had ever thought of him in that way.

"Fuck off, Pete! You did not!" Patrick is incredulous.

"Sure I did. I had quite a thing for your illegal teenage ass." Pete grins like it's a joke but his voice in sincere. Patrick just blinks at him.

"Well I'm not young anymore, but you're still a mess,” Patrick finally jokes and Pete smiles.

"Hey, we're halfway there then."

Pete cuddles closer, and Patrick wraps his arm around him. Maybe halfway is good enough for now.

"What made you realise? What changed that suddenly made you want this?” Pete asks.

Patrick squirms a little under Pete’s gaze, and he knows he’s going to sound so shallow, but he tells Pete anyway because there’s not much that he doesn’t tell Pete.

“The gym stuff,” he says finally. “It’s so stupid, but you look pretty good when you’re on a post-workout high?”

“I do?”

Patrick scoffs, because Pete has to know how good he looks when he’s like that. “Yes,” he says firmly. “That makes me shallow, right?”

“Maybe a little, but it’s not the worst thing in the world. Who knew Patrick Stump had a thing for dudebros who lift?”

Patrick elbows him in the ribs lightly. “It’s not that. I don’t have a thing for _dudebros_ , I have a thing for you. Joe has been going to the gym this summer a lot too, and I’m not all over him.”

“You don’t have a thing for Trohman? He’ll be devastated. What about Andy?”

“Nope.”

“Just me then?” Pete asks, his eyes dark and hopeful.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, holding Pete tighter. “Just you.”


End file.
